Sarah Says

It’s Sunday. I’m used to spending my Sundays sleeping in, doing laundry and basically doing nothing. I like them. They are lazy. They are simple. They are life’s good stuff. Another plus about Sunday…the new secrets are posted on PostSecret. This Sunday I’m here at The Free Press and I’m thankful for it. Most people are grouchy when they have to work a weekend or holiday, but with the terrifying economy I’m thankful to even have a job to come to at all.
Anyway…
I found this poem on 37days.com, which is a Web site I absolutely adore and stalk on a regular basis. I can’t get enough poetry lately so if you find anything good post it here.

I Confess
I stalked her
in the grocery store: her crown
of snowy braids held in place by a great silver clip,
her erect bearing, radiating tenderness,
watching
the way she placed yogurt and avocados in her basket,
beaming peace like the North Star.
I wanted to ask, “What aisle did you find
your serenity in, do you know
how to be married for fifty years or how to live alone,
excuse me for interrupting, but you seem to possess
some knowledge that makes the earth turn and burn on its axis—“
But we don’t request such things from strangers
nowadays. So I said, “I love your hair.”

In my head
Iron and Wine: Love and Some Verses

Bon Iver: Re:Stacks